


Warrior's Fortune

by Cuileth



Series: Thrawn: A Warrior's Tales [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Chiss Ascendancy (Star Wars), Did I say spoilers? Beware!, Everyone gets a bit of the spotlight, F/F, F/M, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Hurt No Comfort, I wouldnt call this a fix-it but it is close, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lost and Found, M/M, Moral grey area everywhere, People have feelings but it isnt the major focus, Post-Star Wars: Rebels, Potential spoilers for basically every Thrawn book, Tactics and politics, The Force, Unknown Regions, but eventually AU - canon divergence, hurt/ comfort, memories and flashbacks, the Eighth ruling family is probably still not happy with you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27780781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuileth/pseuds/Cuileth
Summary: When Ezra used the purgill to take the Seventh Fleet into hyperspace, he was not sure if he would survive. He certainly had no idea what he was getting himself into, and Grand Admiral Thrawn is not ready to give up yet. The mission he embarked on in shambles, he will do what he must to protect his people and if he finds a way to save the rest of the galaxy on the way, all the better.Five years later, Sabine and Ahsoka embark on a mission to find and bring home their lost friend. But they are not the only ones who went looking for the survivors. Admiral Ar'Alani and Eli Vanto have their own interests in finding them, but not everyone in the Ascendancy wants Thrawn found.New alliances are made, treason is committed and forces in the Chaos are once again rising...A.k.a. my spin on a Rebels sequel where I try to weave together canon and legends, Imperials, rebels, Chiss and all those characters that we have grown to love. Shenanigans of all kinds inbound. Enjoy!
Relationships: Ezra Bridger/Sabine Wren, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto
Series: Thrawn: A Warrior's Tales [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691017
Comments: 51
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1 - Prologue

* * *

_"All beings begin their lives with hopes and aspirations. Among these aspirations is the desire that there will be a straight path to those goals._

_It is seldom so. Perhaps never._

_Sometimes the turns are of one's own volition, as one's thoughts and goals change over time. But more often the turns are mandated by outside forces._

_Once again, my path has turned._

_  
Where it will lead, I cannot say."_

* * *

The Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera was driving hard on its journey back to Lothal Sector. Flickers of blue light from the mottled hyperspace sky shone into the bridge canopy, its silent swirl deceptively serene. However, the ship’s bridge personnel, seated at their stations or patrolling in the crew pits, knew or at least suspected that it was merely the calm before the storm. Their newest orders had come from Emperor Palpatine himself, after all.

Orders that the Emperor had issued personally always were to be considered with outmost diligence and carried out with great haste. The gravity of failing such a task was unspeakable.

The rebels they were going up against had proven to be both elusive and creative time and again. But today, their “luck” would run dry. Today, the Empire would finally stand victorious and Phoenix cell would not rise from their metaphorical ashes.

They all knew it.

Grand Admiral Thrawn stood alone at the viewport, shoulders squared, hands clasped behind his back, his eyes narrowed to glowing red slits. He had studied the crew of the Ghost long enough to effectively counter their strategies. It had not taken him very long to grasp a sufficient understanding of each Specter’s preferred tactics and he had already contemplated multiple counter- strategies for every likely scenario.

To be on the safe side, he had sent ships ahead to reinforce the planetary blockade which would cut the rebels off from their own reinforcements and any escape routes once they realized they were trapped. Furthermore, Thrawn strongly suspected that after the debilitating defeat that had been the rebels’ attack run against his TIE Defender factory, Rebel Command would not risk sending any additional fighters to Syndulla’s aid, their confidence as well as their trust in the general’s capabilities shaken.

His own entourage included the newest addition to the 7th fleet: Captain Pellaeon’s ship, the Harbinger. Thrawn was curious to see how Pellaeon would fare under his command. Perhaps there would even be a chance to test his capabilities in battle against the Phoenix crew's final efforts.

“Grand Admiral!” a voice called. Lieutenant Lomar, the Chimaera’s communications officer, was looking up from the com station.

“Incoming transmission, code Dorn – Cresh – zero - six.”

“Put it through,” Thrawn replied coolly, sweeping his hand leisurely to a more private tactical layout table at the aft of the bridge.

Turning his back to both the sky outside and the considerations within, he strode to the station to take the call personally. He touched the blinking indicator light and with a short noise of static and a sputter, a hologram of a wiry grey Noghri came to life.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn.”.

 _His voice is grim, with an underlying tone of frustration_. _His body stance is tense as if in defeat, yet there is the spring coiled readiness of a predator about to pounce._

“The rebels have captured Pryce. I have no doubt they have used her codes to infiltrate the Imperial headquarters. To what purpose, I do not know.”

“I expected Governor Pryce to fail, but not so completely,” Thrawn said, his expression darkening. “You must get inside and deactivate the shield generator before the rebels lock down the Imperial Dome.”

“And then?” Rukh asked.

“Then-“ Thrawn hesitated, quickly weighing the options available to him, “- wait. I’m already en route.”

With a nod of acknowledgement, Rukh cut the transmission.

Frowning, Thrawn turned and walked back to the forward bridge viewport. The situation at hand had once again taken an turn downhill. He had just returned from the edges of known space and was starting to tire of taking blows on behalf of the failure or nepotism of others. The unfortunate loss of funding for his Defender project to Stardust and, even more importantly, the ever growing Grysk threat were still fresh on his mind.

Ironically enough, now it hardly seemed to matter that he had been deprived of financial means. Considering that the fuel tanks of the factory on Lothal had been summarily blown to smithereens, supply lines would have to be shut down anyway.

Mentally, Thrawn corrected himself. The tanks that Governor Pryce herself had ordered shot at in the hopes of killing a few rebels that had been doomed anyway.

It had not at all been the rebels who had crippled the factory as they’d set out to do - on the contrary, his forces had successfully stopped their pitiful force from achieving that goal, capturing General Hera Syndulla in the process. A briefly lasting achievement, since Syndulla had since been freed right from under Pryce’s nose while he himself had been off-planet. And now she had let herself get captured and given the rebels access to the Imperial dome, the heart of Imperial presence and control on Lothal.

The Grand Admiral suppressed a scowl. If he did not know better, he might assume Governor Pryce was trying to undermine him. It was not at all an unreasonable suspicion- the woman had not stopped short at selling a friend to ISB, the murder of Agent Gudry or even the slaughter of countless innocents to get what she wanted. But no. She needed him and the work he was doing on Lothal and she knew it. She had, quite simply and disappointingly, become overzealous in her personal vendetta against Syndulla and her Jedi lover, letting her emotions rule her actions.

He had seen this kind of behavior far too often within the Empire at this point, especially when it came to many of the greedier and short – sighted individuals. Hence Pryce had not only overestimated her own skill but had also set completely unacceptable priorities. When he had confronted her about the whole fiasco, she had proudly presented to him Jarrus’s lightsaber as if his death could compensate for her deficiency.

He gave an inaudible snort. Compensation, indeed. He had already assured her to “deal with her accordingly” upon his return. She might still require his support in driving Phoenix squadron away from Lothal but with her misguided actions and behavior she had become more of a detriment than aid. He could not afford or would stand for anyone with such a string of failures either as an ally or in his crew.

Fortunately, the latter had proven to be the more competent. He turned to his Weapons officer down at her crew pit station.

“Lieutenant Pyrondi, prepare the turbolaser batteries for full-scale orbital bombardment. We might have to act quickly upon our return from hyperspace. Time is of the essence. I have prepared your targets in the capital and sent them to your console.”

_Her musculature stiffens as she studies the tactical. Her facial heat lowers as the blood flow in her face decreases, indicating bewilderment or shock. Her eyes widen, perhaps in disbelief. Her throat muscles work as she swallows audibly._

“Sir?” Pyrondi asked, “orbital bombardment? Of the Capital city?”

 _Her voice has slightly risen in pitch. Her hands withdraw a few centimeters from the console, showing her instinctive displeasure at the concept. The surrounding sound of conversation on the bridge has dropped significantly, indicating that other officers have overheard the order and are similarly surprised about it_.

“Yes, Lieutenant. We are to send a clear message to those who would rebel against the Empire and to those who would aid them. Our Emperor commands it.”

Pyrondi swallowed again.

“But, sir- those are just civilians, if the planetary shield doesn’t hold, we’ll utterly destroy-“

“You have your orders, Lieutenant,” Thrawn cut in. _As do I._ “Carry them out.”

He watched the signs of inner conflict between conscience and obedience on her face for a moment, then pointed towards the display.

“Look closer, Lieutenant,” he said, lowering his voice. “You will find that most of the marked buildings have been abandoned for some time. We do not require to kill citizens to make the opponent believe we are willing to do so. They are unlikely to be aware of the status of these houses and will not expect restraint from our forces.”

“Yes, sir!” Visibly relieved, she turned back to her station and quickly began powering up the weapons system with her usual efficiency.

Regarding her for one more moment, Thrawn then resumed his stride past the rest of his crew who quickly resumed their duties to the front viewports, where the hypnotic haze of hyperspace was visible. Resolutely, he ignored the churning in his own gut at giving the order of firing at helpless and innocent civilians. Despite his efforts to find suitable targets, casualties were nevertheless unavoidable in such a scenario.

But he had been left with very little choice.

With the murmurs of exchanged information between the members of his crewstill somewhat subdued after his latest order, the words that the Emperor had directed at him earlier rang in his memory.

“ _Your loyalty is in question. You will destroy those who would dare oppose me. Capture Ezra Bridger and bring him to a chamber you will construct aboard the_ Chimaera.”

He could not afford to fail. He could not afford to show mercy. If he did, his mission and his life might very well come to an end earlier than anticipated, and a decade of work would be in vain.

 _“Your loyalty is in question. When your business on Lothal is finished_ , y _ou will return to Coruscant, where you and I will have a long, long talk,”_ the Emperor had said.

He had his orders. He would carry them out.

* * *

_"There is satisfaction in defeating an enemy. But one must never allow oneself to become complacent. There are always more enemies to be identified, faced, and vanquished._

_All warriors understand the need to face and defeat the enemy. Both aspects of the task are challenging. Both can require thought, insight, and planning. Failures in any of those areas can cost unnecessary time and irreplaceable lives._

_But a warrior may forget that even the task of identifying the enemy can be difficult. And the cost of that failure can lead to catastrophe."_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Note: I lost the original notes as I was trying to edit them. This is my attempt at reconstructing them, so please excuse if they seem a bit disconnected or weird.]
> 
> Oh boy, here we go! 
> 
> I had the ideas and plans and all kinds of things in my brain for a long while now, and I wanted to get this out there before canon comes around and just contradicts everything I do XD  
> I was hesitant to get to it because I am a perfectionist and need a while for achieving a state of "yes I can post this", and maybe doing my opus as my second fic ever is not the greatest of ideas ^^ But if I don't just start already, I feel like I never will. So I hope you like it and you enjoy the ride!
> 
> There are so many characters that I and so many of you have grown to love, and I want to give all of them at least a bit of attention... Plus, I always was a sucker for morally grey areas and complex nuanced characters, so I hope I can deliver on exploring that as I go along. Because of that, there will be a few POVs, basically one for each major group, if you will. For obvious reasons, how else am I going to tell what happens with them ^^
> 
> If you can spare the time for feedback, I would be very thankful, since I am pretty much a beginner still and can use advice of all sorts. Regardless, thanks for stopping by to read the story I have to tell :)


	2. Chapter 2 - Then

Ezra Bridger stood amongst the rubble of the Jedi temple, the broken bodies of the red-clothed guards barely visible, poking out from beneath the stone. Dust and and smoke were hanging in the air, accompanied by a smell of iron, burnt plastoid and something sulfuric he couldn’t quite place.

He threw one last look over his shoulder to the remains of the temple, where the Emperor’s holo-image had been, and knelt down to pluck a blaster rifle out of a fallen stormtrooper’s hand. Weighing it in his hand to get a good grip, he quickly decided that this piece of run-of-the-mill weapon was really not going to be a blaster he liked using, ever. It felt entirely too heavy, clumsy and just, well, _Imperial_. But he hardly had any other choice, so the E-11 it would have to be.

Looking around the mess, he reached out with the Force to the troopers sprawled on the ground. Some of them had been crushed under the boulders he’d thrown at them, but apparently they weren’t all dead, he could still feel their weak life forces.

A flash of orange caught his eye and he stepped a bit closer to get a better look, lining up his weapon just in case. It was only the commander’s shoulder pauldron, but it had a symbol on it he hadn’t really noticed before now. No surprise there, he usually didn’t stick around stormtroopers to admire their armour. From what he could remember, there was either the insignia of the Empire or nothing at all printed on those things.

_Haven’t I seen that spiked shape before… wasn’t it the same thing that had been painted on Thrawn’s droids? The ones Kallus used to distract him? Some kind of logo of his? Weird…_

But regardless, he didn’t really care. He only needed to make sure the soldiers didn’t alert anyone that he had gotten out of that blasted chamber. Making a face, he tried to banish the memories of the exchange. He hadn’t expected to be confronted with a vision of his parents out of all things and he couldn’t deny it had thrown him for a loop.

_I am so close to getting Thrawn away from Lothal…_

He couldn’t let himself be distracted. Mart was out there right now, probably setting up Ezra’s own trap for the Imperials. The purgill would be answering his call for help, he just knew it.

He had seen it.

He had to get this done, and he had to do it now. For his parents. For his family, the specters. For all of Lothal.

Ezra fiddled with the blaster for a moment, finding the switch that would change fire from lethal to stun, and thumbed it. He wasn’t sure if it would make any difference, considering what he was about to do, but he’d just as well not gun down helpless men face-to-face. He picked off the stormtroopers as he approached the door, now reassured they wouldn’t wake up for a while, and hit the door controls.

The corridor was surprisingly empty, but then, all the troopers had rushed into the room as he was fighting the cloaked guys.

 _Now where in space is the way to the bridge…_ “Would’ve been nice of you to put up some signs,” he muttered, carefully sneaking down the hallway.

_These corridors all look the same. Grey and boring… heh, I wonder what Sabine could do with so much space…_

He peered round the corner. No sign of any turbolifts or even an indication of where he had to go, but a sudden thought struck him. What if he retraced his steps back towards Thrawn’s office and went from there? It shouldn’t be too far from the bridge. And either way he would find the Grand Admiral.

Feeling way more confident, he turned around, turning a corner and jogging down the hallway Thrawn had been leading him through. Left, another left, straight on…

He felt the warning in the Force a moment before he heard the footsteps. _Kriff._ A pair of troopers appeared with blasters held high and ready, their steps faltering as they saw him.

“Blast hi-uargh!”

Ezra’s shot got the first one straight in the chest, dropping him with to the floor. Quickly, Ezra ducked to the side, rolling forward and using the Force to bolt up and to his right again to avoid the fire from the other Imperial who tried - and failed - to follow his rapid movements with his weapon. A few well-aimed shots later, and he joined his comrade on the floor.

Ezra cursed under his breath. If it went on like this, sooner or later someone would hear the blasterfire and if they commed Thrawn, he would lose the element of surprise he had on him. Especially since there wasn’t any real cover in these stupid hallways… Maybe the ventilation shafts? He stepped over the stormtroopers and as quickly as he could while still being careful he moved along the corridor, inspecting the walls and ceiling as he went. But there wasn’t anything that looked like an entry to any system like that, and it would have been a tight fit anyway – he had barely been able to squeeze through the narrow shafts of the dome, and they wouldn’t be any different here, would they? He was quickly running out of time and decent options.

 _Looks like I gotta do this the hard way._ _I always wanted a tour of a star destroyer, yay me_. He just hoped he would not be too late.

There had been a few more scuffles here and there, both with troopers and even two officers whom he had quite literally ran into as he was turning a corner, but he had overcome all of them without too much effort. At some point, a quick-thinking trooper had tried to close a blast door in his face, but he’d vaulted himself forward with the Force to get through before it sealed him off, silencing the man before he could get a message out.

Fortunately, he managed to not get himself lost, calling on the Force to guide him to the right direction.

And then, after what felt like an eternity and yet way too quickly, he was there, walking down the corridor towards the Chimeara’s bridge. For a second, he felt himself standing rooted to the spot and just staring at the looming grey bridge blast doors that - for a moment - almost looked like the strange maw of a cave. The lion’s den…

_I really shouldn’t be so nervous. Everything is going to plan, right? There was absolutely no chance somebody could have anticipated this move, not even Thrawn._

Ezra just needed to muster his own courage one last time to actually see it through to the end.

 _I need to do this,_ he told himself. _I can save all of Lothal, and only I will have to face the consequences. The others will be safe._

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, pushing away the fear and the doubt.

“This is for you, Kanan.”

With a deceptively casual wave of his hand, he opened the bridge door and strode in with renewed confidence and determination. Before they had a chance to react, Ezra raised his blaster and shot the two death troopers caught unawares guarding the door. They crumpled to the floor with barely as much of a sound as a quiet gasp.

Across the walkway, Thrawn slowly turned, facing him. There was no surprise on his face, no anger… just a bit of irritation. The rest of the bridge had fallen eerily quiet at his sudden unexpected appearance, officers from all over the crew pits staring up at him in shock and disgust, none of them daring to move a muscle.

“Look’s like you lose, Thrawn,” Ezra said, pointing his weapon at the chest of the Grand Admiral in a silent warning.

“A momentary setback,” Thrawn replied, frowning slightly. Ezra noted with a good bit of satisfaction that the condescending, smug expression he usually wore had finally vanished from his blue face. He could see a few stormtroopers back at the viewports of the ship on the walkway, but even though their fingers were curled tightly around their weapons and he could almost feel their hostile glares through the visors of their helmets, they couldn’t act with their admiral held at gun point.

“We’ll see,” he said, raising the blaster just a bit higher in emphasis.

The head of an officer behind Thrawn suddenly snapped up, a look of horrified confusion on her face.

“Sir! Several unidentified objects have just entered orbit!”

“My blockade will intercept them?” Thrawn asked, glancing out of the corner of his eye in her direction without turning around.

“They destroyed the blockade!” the officer said, voice laced with dread and disbelief. “Our ships are just… gone.”

Thrawn’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed to angry slits.

“Get Captain Pellaeon!” he snarled.

In another crew pit, a middle-aged man started frantically keying his station’s control switches and punching keyes at the order.

Although he felt his own nerves straining, Ezra had to suppress a triumphant grin. _Everything that gets a real reaction out of the heartless stone is worth the effort already._

Thrawn’s commlink chirped and he ripped it off his belt, pressing it.

“Sir, they came out of hyperspace! I’ve never seen anything like-“ With a sizzle of static, the com cut out.

Delighted, Ezra saw Thrawn recoil just ever so slightly, staring at the device in his hand. He’d called it, alright. The Imperials had had no idea what was coming for them, and now it would be too late for them to react. His plan had worked out splendidly so far.

Now of course the only matter he had to take care of was to prevent the grand admiral from leaving the bridge.

“Admiral, we have incoming!” the woman – the sensor officer, probably – spoke up again, her voice sharp and clipped.

“Take a look,” Ezra said, letting a hint of his own smugness shine through and gesturing to the viewport with the blaster.

Scowling, Thrawn turned around- and this time, his eyes widened considerably as he scanned the sky and his gaze fell upon the pod of purrgil that now was approaching the Chimaera at high speed. Even Ezra was surprised at how many there were, around a dozen enormous behemoths about the size of interdictor cruisers and innumerable little ones, their tentacles trailing deftly behind them as they flew towards the Star Destroyers.

In the front of the unusual attack force flew the Ghost like the alpha of a herd leading its flock, swooping down even lower now, driving hard directly towards the Imperials as if she wanted to ram them.

Ezra heard no order being given, but a moment later he saw numerous TIE fighters rushing out of the hangar to engage the attacking animals. However, with the certainty of the force whispering reassuringly to him, Ezra knew it was futile.

“All batteries, target those creatures, fire at will!” Thrawn snapped, sounding more tense than Ezra had ever heard him.

_He must know he has lost._

In the desperate skirmish that ensued, the TIEs dodged and weaved and fired frantically, but there were simply too many targets for them to do any real damage. Some were rammed by the purrgil head on, some plucked out of the air and ripped apart by purple tentacles and the surviving few were shot down by the red blaster fire of the Ghost’s turrets.

One of three Star Destroyers turned tail and started to ascend to orbit, but two giant purrgil rose up from the battle and thrust their heads against the bridge tower, using their bodies to stop it from putting distance between itself and the pod.

Meanwhile, another colossus, almost as long as the ship itself, smashed right through the thick armor plating of the ship’s belly all the way from the main hangar bay to the big aft engines. Angry hazes of orange and purple fire erupted along the path it had taken, and it didn’t take very long before violent explosions rocked the ship all over from bow to stern.

Slowly, thick black smoke trailing behind it, the proud Star Destroyer fell from the sky.

On the Chimaera’s bridge, Ezra’s attention snapped back to Thrawn as he heard the sound of a blaster being whipped from its holster, followed up by the distinct clack of E11 safety hatches being removed.

He found himself staring down not only Thrawn’s weapon- _why does he as an officer wear one, anyway_ \- but also the four blaster rifles from stormtroopers who had been standing guard on the bridge. At least, the rest of the officers in their crew pits still sat unmoving, clearly not knowing what they possibly should- or even could- do.

 _Should’ve been more careful with admiring the view,_ Ezra admonished himself, _but I’ve faced far worse odds. Besides…I wonder when he will notice that we got company._

Just then, another huge purrgil floated up to the viewport, tantalizingly close, it’s unblinking stare fixed on the Grand Admiral. His aim on Ezra not wavering even a centimeter, Thrawn turned slightly and peered over his shoulder, watching his reflection in the eye of the creature.

“Whatever happens next, happens to both of us."

He sounded far too thoughtful and unfazed for Ezra’s liking. Had he already regained his composure? Did he maybe not know what purrgil could do and had, in fact, not figured out what Ezra had planned for them? Did he not _care_? In his experience, Imperials and officers in particular were quick and also pretty egoistic when it came to self-preservation.

“That’s the idea,” he said boldly. _Just wait, you bastard, just you wait… Now!_

With a resounding _crash_ , the transparisteel windows shattered along with the quiet tension as the purrgil’s thick tentacles smashed right through.

Thrawn spun around, opening fire on the wildly flailing appendages. The stormtroopers followed his lead, but none got off more than a few shots before they were each grabbed and hurled around like ragdolls. Their commander and one of the troopers were slammed fiercely against the walls and sent sprawling over the deck, while the other two soldiers were simply chucked out of the windows.

Some bridge officers desperately scrambled for cover, others went flying like the troopers, their panicked screams piercing the noise of the battle now pouring in from the outside, some more found themselves grabbed and firmly held in place by the purrgil.

Suddenly, Thrawn gave up on trying to shoot the purrgil and turned on his heel, ducking below a tentacle and sprinting towards Ezra in an obvious attempt to escape.

_Oh no, you don’t…_

With a powerful force push as he could muster, he shoved Thrawn backwards, directly into the waiting arms of the purrgil. Immediately it seized Thrawn and wrapped its tentacles tightly around his arms and upper body, taking no apparent notice of Thrawn trying to shoot it and even less of his increasingly furious struggle to free himself.

“Ezra! Ezra, can you hear me?” Sabine’s distorted voice came over the com. “The purrgil, is this you?”

Hectically, Ezra fished for his commlink and keyed it. “Yeah!” he said, unable to keep the pride and enthusiasm from his voice. “Pretty good, huh?”

“Well, you could’ve told the rest of us!” Sabine said tartly.

“I wanted it to be a surprise!"

The sudden whoosh of the blast doors behind him warned him of the arrival of another deathtrooper and more stormtroopers. Gritting his teeth, Ezra again called on the force to push the arrivers back to throw them off-balance, then blasted them with his rifle.

_How many more are the-_

“Aaaargh!” With a startled cry, he slumped forward, a burning pain in his left shoulder.

Thrawn had somehow managed to free himself from his living restraints and had shot him! Trembling from the exertion and pain, Ezra whipped around, ripping the weapon from his opponent’s grasp. With an effort and a pained yelp as he felt another wave of fire in his shoulder, he again drove Thrawn back against the broken window, mentally urging the purgill on to restrain him. He was gasping for air now, crouched forward from the strain of his powers and shaking visibly with the effort just to stay upright.

The limbs enveloped Thrawn tightly with a sickening sound of twisting bones and the purrgil’s leathery skin rubbing against the rough uniform fabric even as the alien squirmed in a fruitless effort to escape.

And, for what was probably the first time, Ezra felt a sudden spark of panic from his enemy’s usually glacially calm demeanor.

With a warm, reinforcing feeling of victory blossoming in his chest, Ezra used it to summon his last reserves of strength. He turned around once more, forcing the doors to the bridge shut and thereby sealing it off against the approaching Imperial reinforcements. He felt cold and sweaty, his clothes stuck to him like a lothcat to a caught nuna, and black spots danced in front of his vision.

_It isn’t every day that I almost single- handedly subdue an Imperial Star Destroyer. I just need to hang in there a little longer, and then it’s all over._

Wrapped up even more tightly now in the purrgil’s embrace, Thrawn was lifted from the ground, dangling helplessly and still desperately straining against the hold the animal had on him which now also constricted his legs, rendering him completely immobile and at its mercy.

Through the viewport behind him, no ships were to be seen- the Ghost had retreated to a safe distance, and the second Destroyer had apparently also found its fiery end at the hands of the purgill. What was visible, though, was the victorious animal herd, from which three of the bigger specimens drifted over and latched on to the Chimaera’s bow.

In a stunning display of turquoise light, all purrgils’ tentacles started to glow rhythmically from root to tip. _When they glow like that, they’re about to jump into hyperspace._

It was the most beautiful, satisfying thing Ezra had ever seen.

“Ezra! Ezra, get out of there right now, that’s an order!” Now it was Hera’s panicked voice that sounded from his com.

He swallowed hard. _I_ _t’s goodbye, then…_

“I have to see this through to the end,” he said resolutely, trying to banish the exhaustion from his voice.

_I hope you will forgive me for leaving you like this … I love you all so much…_

But there was no way he’d admit that in front of the Imperials, even if almost none were still conscious. Instead, he raised his other hand, reaching out with the force to the lead purrgil.

“Ezra, please, get out of there!” Sabine sounded borderline hysterical, her voice breaking with barely restrained emotion.

His gaze fell upon the struggling, frustrated Thrawn.

“I can’t do that,” he said, painfully aware of the trembling in his own voice.

 _I don’t want to go, but I don’t have a choice anymore._ _The Empire took that choice from me, took it from all of us. You need to trust me, just as I trust you. I hope I will see you again._

The Chimaera was creaking and groaning now under the pressure of the purrgil’s hold and there were shards of broken transparisteel and limp Imperials all over the floor. With what appeared to be a last effort, Thrawn turned his head towards the viewport just enough to peer outside.

Ezra let him -after all, he wanted Thrawn to see this. He felt fear and resignation seeping through the cracks of Thrawn’s composure, saw him grit his teeth and clench his fists in anticipation and pain.

_I’ll rid Lothal and the rest of the galaxy from your damned blue ass. Lothal will be free._

“It’s up to all of you now,” he said, knowing that his friends - his family- would hear him.

A blinding light filled the viewport, illuminating the chaos around Ezra and causing Thrawn to cast a dark shadow on the bridge walkway.

“And remember,” he said solemnly, bracing himself, “the Force will be with you.

Always.”

With a flicker of pseudomotion, surrounded by a faint cyan glow, the Chimaera vanished into hyperspace, leaving behind an eerie silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, most of you will already have known parts of that chapter in a way, I suppose. I must admit, it was way harder for me than anything else I have done in writing ever before, took me so many hours to make it work ^^ Here's to hoping you enjoyed that bit of warm-up Ezra POV :)
> 
> Edit: I messed up the chapter name because I was tired when posting this, it should have been "then" because it is the timeline that is farther in the past. "Now" is the timeline from Sabine and Ahsoka starting the search. I corrected it, sorrry!
> 
> Also, I didnt mention it in the last chapter's notes, but a big thank you to my friend BlueMarbles for being my supportive motivational beta-reader! <3


	3. Chapter 3 - Now

* * *

_"Rebels have friends always rushing to their rescue._

_It is one of their most prominent tactical oversights. One can expect with high likelihood that the soldiers of the Rebellion will return for a comrade who has fallen behind or got captured._

_On the surface, this seems to be an honourable habit. But in practice, it presents the opponent with opportunities for traps and counter attacks, as well as it risks the life of many more soldiers for the benefit of just a few rescued._

_A warrior must always be aware that the cost of his service may be death. Such is the price of war._

_Giving one’s life in service is the ultimate sacrifice. Some warriors yearn to die on the battlefield, others fear it. All warriors wish for their death not to be in vain, regardless of whether their life was voluntarily given or taken in the rush of combat._ _To send more soldiers to their death and to deal the opponent a fortunate hand by attempting a rescue shows not only tactical inability, but also disrespect to the warrior who accepts death in exchange for tactical advantage. For such rescue will almost always negate the advantages gained, and sometimes more._

_Many will say that the value of life cannot be measured, but in warfare, a life is a resource that is pitched against the corresponding amount of the opponent’s resources. As such, one must be very careful to calculate potential gain against potential loss. Sometimes, a warrior’s worth may be estimated higher due to the knowledge, equipment or skill he possesses, and hence an extraction reasonable. More often, that is not the case._

_Ezra Bridger seems convinced that his allies will come to retrieve their lost friend._

_What the rescuers must be aware of is that this search will also lead them to their lost enemy."_

* * *

"Sabine, don‘t forget: I’m counting on you. I couldn’t have wished for a better family. And I can’t wait to come home." The hologram of Ezra flickered, then faded.

For a long moment, Sabine Wren was just sitting on the edge of her bunk, staring at the empty space where a second earlier his image had been. It had been five years since she last saw him face-to-face. Five whole years of waiting, planning, and protecting Lothal – the planet and people he cared for so much.

She sighed, grabbing the holoprojector and carefully stuffing it into her sling bag. It had taken her a while to realize there had been more to Ezra’s statement than she had initially thought. He was out there somewhere, and now, with the Empire in shambles and her being able to leave Lothal in the safe hands of the blossoming New Republic, it was finally time to bring him home.

"I am sorry it took us so long," she said in a low voice to the general direction of the bag, despite feeling a bit silly about it. “But we couldn’t just abandon the fight, you know? You will understand… right? Just hold on a bit longer. We’re coming for you, and you know can always count on me.”

She swallowed, trying to ignore the quiet nagging in the back of her head that told her that her friend had been stuck somewhere, anywhere really, for five years, with a ship full of Imperials.

With Grand Admiral Thrawn.

The man who had made it his personal mission to make her life and the life of the spectres a living hell. Who had demolished Chopper Base, decimated the rebels, almost destroyed Lothal and the young rebellion, and had killed so many. Countless pilots, informants and fighters of the Alliance. Commander Sato. Morad Sumar, who had been like an uncle to Ezra, had been murdered right in front of his eyes, no less.

And then to top it off, Kanan Jarrus – who had been like a father to him.

Sabine sighed again, standing up and grabbing the strap of the bag, throwing it over her shoulder with a heavy thud.

 _Yeah. Ezra would do_ great _around Thrawn, all right._

“Sabine!”

Hera Syndulla’s drawn out shout was muffled by the Ghost’s cabin doors, but Sabine felt herself cringe, nonetheless. She knew that tone, and it never meant any good.

“Coming, Hera!” she called back, instinctively retracing the last few hours in her head.

What could she have done that could have possibly upset her? True, Hera had really been on edge the last few weeks approaching Sabine’s departure, but still, all she had been doing today was going around the Ghost, packing up the last of her belongings into her bag to get ready. She quickly checked her holsters. No, both blaster pistols were present and accounted for. Hera had been insisting she made sure she did not leave them lying around, and Sabine could not blame her. But if that was not it…?

Reluctantly, she stuck her head out the door, looking for the Ghost’s captain. But there was no sight of her in the hallway or the community area.

“Hera?”

“I am in the freshers. You better hurry!”

The freshers? Frowning, she rushed down to the aft of the ship. As she quickly palmed the door release, the panels whooshed open – to reveal a livid Hera who was currently gathering up lots of small tubes and plastoid cases into a drawer, snatching them out of the hands of her crying child, Jacen.

Oh.

His hands, face and hair were smeared with colourful paint, specks of yellow and blue dotting around a see of a brilliant emerald green.

_Oh._

“That’s your hair dyes, yes?” Hera said sourly, biting out each word.

“I mean, who else dyes her hair on this ship,” Sabine muttered sheepishly, biting back a grin. “Certainly not you…”

“Very funny,” Hera growled, slamming the drawer shut and rummaging for a small towel to wipe her hands on. “Let me guess, you forgot to put them away after doing yours? Or was it while you were picking up your _toothbrush_?”

“Well,” Sabine started, but Jacen cut her off.

“I wanna change my hair,” he sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and leaving a lighter streak of green straight across. “I wanna have pretty colours like you, Bine. And like mom, mom is green, why can’t I be green, too?”

“Oh Jacen,” Hera sighed, dropping down on one knee before him and gently wiping his face and hands with the cloth. “You are beautiful as you are, no need to play around with these.”

She turned to face Sabine, who did her best to look guilty despite an overwhelming urge to laugh.

“And you! I am _this_ short of saying it’ll be good to have you gone for a while so that this kind of stuff doesn’t happen anymore!”

Sabine’s face fell, and she felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. She stared at Hera, shocked, who averted her gaze and attention back to her son, wincing.

A heavy, uncomfortable silence followed, during which Jacen made a valiant effort – and failed – to evade his mother’s continuous efforts of cleaning him up as best as possible.

“I’m sorry,” Hera said softly, her anger quickly fading as a flood of guilt flowed over her soul. “I didn’t mean it like that, I really don’t.”

She stood up, tossed the dirty towel into the sink, and pulled Sabine into a tight hug.

“I am going to miss you so much, Sabine. It’ll be a lot less colourful without you around, and I don’t just mean that in the literal way. I didn’t mean to shout at you, I just… I guess I lost it. I’m just so worried.”

Sabine swallowed her indignation and wrapped her arms around Hera, giving her a small squeeze.

“It’s alright. That was a mean thing to say, but I know you’re struggling, with Jacen and the fleet hunting down Imperial remnants and such.”

_And maybe I really should have made sure my dyes were out of the kid’s reach._

“Hold up,” she said, frowning and pulling away. “I put them in the upper board, I remember that!”

Hera’s face twisted into something between suspicion, hesitant pride and displeasure.

“Jacen…”

“Yes, mum?” the boy asked innocently, grabbing at a few strands of his matted hair and rubbing it between his fingers like he’d seen Sabine do - or at least, how he thought he’d seen her do it.

“Did you reach into that shelf up there to get Sabine’s colours?”

“Yes!” he said proudly, now grinning from ear to ear again. He never cried for long, always falling back into his cheery attitude. “It is real easy, look!”

He stretched out his hand, barely reaching the bottom edge of the wall cupboard where Sabine used to keep her toiletries, and curled his fingers. For a second, nothing happened. Then, with a plonk, another jar of dye toppled out and more fell than flew into his waiting hand, prompting him to squeal in delight.

“Well done, honey,” Hera sighed, carefully prying it from his fingers and putting it back on its shelf. “Sabine, do I understand that correctly and that colour is going to stick to his hair?”

“I mean, that is kinda the point,” she said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “You can wipe it from skin easily enough but is _supposed_ to stick to hair. You’re not getting that out.” She contemplated her options for a moment, looking down at Jacen who was staring back with pleading in his eyes.

“I could make it look even, at least,” she suggested. “So it looks like _something_.”

Hera regarded her and then Jacen, then groaned and nodded.

“Fine, if that is the best we got…”

“It is,” Sabine confirmed, then smiled at the boy. “Looks like you’re getting your makeover after all.”

“Don’t encourage him, please,” Hera muttered, “or he will keep doing that kind of thing.”

“Well, he is going to look pretty like his mummy, huh?” Sabine said, ignoring the comment and winking conspiratively at Jacen. She stepped over to the drawer and fished for the tube with the emerald hair dye.

“Yes!” Jacen bounced up and down on his heels, clapping his hands excitedly. “Thank you, Bine!”

Hera snorted and threw her an annoyed look, but she could not hide the amused smile that crossed her face.

It did not take Sabine too long to fix the colourful mess on Jacen’s head, and after she cautioned him to sit still, she also dyed his eyebrows for good measure. She had to admit, after washing out the excess material and drying Jacen off, it did not even look half bad. Pretty decent, actually. But even if it had turned out to be horrible, the beaming grin that was plastered on his face made it all worth it.

Privately, she appreciated that this was the last interaction she had with him for what might well be a while, making a mental note to start a drawing of the boy so that she could show Ezra when they found him. She was sure that he would be very happy to hear that Kanan and Hera had a kid, and probably just as interested in the fact that he was force-sensitive.

Maybe he would even want to train Jacen someday? After all, he was the son of Ezra’s master. Sabine did not know much at all about Jedi customs, but in her mind, it certainly made sense.

“Sabine?” Jacen interrupted her musings, looking up at her with big eyes.

She startled, frowning slightly at his small voice and him using her full name. He usually only did that when there was trouble or he was upset.

“Yeah? What is it, little one?” She sat down on the lone stool and pulled Jacen up on her lap, putting an arm around his small frame.

He chewed at his lip. “You’re going away, right? I heard you and mommie talk.”

She patted his shoulder in an awkward attempt of calming him down.

“Yes, I am. We didn’t try to make it a secret, I would’ve told you now anyway.”

His eyes widened. “It’s today, right?” He grabbed at the sides of her undersuit, clutching the fabric tightly in his fists. “I don’t want you to go, don’t leave us, Bine…” Jacen’s voice trailed off, his eyes tearing up.

Kriff. If he started crying, Sabine would have to call Hera. She’d never been good at dealing with upset children, even if it was a bit easier to deal with Jacen since he was family.

“It’s alright,” she soothed. “I need to go. You see, I am going to find Ezra and bring him back home! Don’t you wanna meet him?”

Jacen sniffled, letting go of her jumpsuit. “I… I do… but…”

“I am gonna be alright,” Sabine cut in gently. “I am not going alone. I’ll be fine. And you take good care of your mom in the meantime for me, yes?”

He nodded, looking up at her with an eager seriousness.

_Phew. Imminent breakdown averted._

“I will.” He hesitated, then added: “You don’t know when you’ll come back, right? You don’t know if – if you’ll come back?”

A cold fist closed around Sabine’s heart. But as she gazed back into his brilliant blue eyes – the eyes of his mother – she was struck by the solemnity of his expression. If she did not know better, she’d say he looked almost twice his age all of a sudden. And even though she could not quite place it, she had a feeling she owed him the truth, and that he could take it. _Shavit_ , he’d grown up without his father. He probably was a lot more resilient than she sometimes gave his joyful demeanor credit for.

It was almost unsettling, this sudden change, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was related to the Force somehow. Kanan and Ezra both had had short moments in which they seemed to drop all pretence, suddenly talking with unexpected intensity and an aura of maturity that seemed to come out of nowhere and always left her at a loss for words or opposition.

She did not know whether it was on purpose or just a thing that Jedi did. Regardless, Jacen was still waiting for his answer, watching her with rapt attention.

“Yes. I don’t know. I will give my best, though – both to find him, and to stay alive long enough to get us back.”

“Of course you will! You always do your best, Bine. And I know you can do it. You can do anything!”

She couldn’t help but smile at that. “Thanks, Jacen. Come on, we need to find Hera, show her your new look, okay? And I gotta say goodbye to her, too.”

“Okay,” he said and jumped out of her lap, grabbing her hand instead and clinging to it firmly.

This time, finding Hera was not difficult at all. She had returned to the cockpit and was watching over the instruments and checking data, punching in a few numbers into the autopilot.

“Mom, look!” Jacen called, hurrying forward and pulling Sabine with him, pointing at his head.

Hera turned around, her face studiously neutral, looking him over, then at Sabine. She raised a critical eyebrow.

“Well… it is a look, I give you that.”

Sabine smirked. “Come on, just admit it suits him,” she teased.

“It does. But," Hera replied firmly, turning to Jacen and raising a finger for emphasis, "that doesn’t mean I want you to ever play around with that again, next time come and ask... we can talk about it, honey."

He nodded, hopping up on the co-pilot seat. Hera reached over to strap him in, then turned to Sabine, embracing her.

“This is it, then?”

“Yes. I was basically done packing when you called me earlier. Just drop me off at the tower as we said, and I’ll be on my way from there.”

“Take care of yourself, Sabine. Please. I cannot bear to lose you, too.” She let go of Sabine, taking hold of her shoulders instead.

“Don’t I always?” she replied, but then felt herself grow serious at the obvious pain in Hera’s face and tone. “I will. I want to get Ezra back, but I realize it won’t help anyone if I get myself killed before I even get to him.”

“Don’t forget it’s pretty likely that wherever he is, Thrawn is around as well,” Hera warned. “Unless Ezra somehow manged to get rid of him… don’t underestimate him. He’s proven time and time again that he – “

“Is dangerous, clever, and a stone-cold killer,” Sabine interrupted. “I know, Hera. I’m not stupid. I am not keen on seeing the blue shabuir again, but if I do, I got a few presents for him. That minister guy from the temple, remember him? He claimed Thrawn likes my art.”

She wrinkled her nose, scoffing. “We’ll see how much he likes it when it blows up in his face.”

That got a small smile out of the older woman. “Tell him my regards, will you? But if you can, avoid Thrawn at all costs. Trying to get back at him is not worth your and Ezra’s life, is that clear?”

Five years ago, Sabine would have objected. Getting rid of Thrawn would have been absolutely worth her life to her then. She vividly remembered the seething rage and blind hatred that had gotten a hold of her and that had never really gone away after Kanan’s death. It was not just about Thrawn, but also the Empire as a whole, and what she, her family, the Rebellion, all of the galaxy had endured under Palpatine’s rule. Consequently, her desire for revenge had died down a little after the Battle of Endor, when the Empire had fallen and the Rebellion triumphed at last. But sometimes she still caught herself imagining things.

Cruel things.

If she had been on the Chimaera that fateful day, she would have gladly blown it up then and there with her still inside. It would not have mattered. But it had not been her who had made the sacrifice, but Ezra. So _Jedi_ of him. So much like Kanan…

Sabine tore herself away from her musings the second time that day. She had been there often enough, and it never helped. It only made her afraid and insecure, making her think that Ezra – just like Kanan – had died. She would not let that happen, not as long as she had any say in it. She would not know what she would do if it did happen.

“Crystal clear,” she said.

_If I am going through all that trouble just to find you’re already dead, Ezra Bridger, I am going to kill you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that it took me so long to upload, originally this should have been up to days ago. But the small idea I had suddenly got hold of me and as I kept writing, it kept getting longer and longer. I hope I can upload a bit more frequently, but considering full hard lockdown has been declared in my country and my DnD group is on Christmas break, I guess I got a pinch of time more than I thought from now on.
> 
> As for the hair dying exercise, I just had to do it. Not only because I find it a good character moment and all that, but also because I just don't see human/ twilek children having unusually colourful hair like that. I am fully aware that I cannot use our concept of biology on all things Star Wars for obvious reasons, but... I just... can't. That is not how hair colouration works X) A bit of green on the skin, sure, I can roll with that. So here, have my headcanon, hope you like it ^^ Oh and in case you're not sure if I screwed up, "Bine" is of course pronounced like "bean", because it is short for Sabine. Just saying ^_^
> 
> Also, this time the journal entry is completely my own, as will be quite a few going forward. I hope I got the tone and attitude right, personally I am very content with how it turned out.  
> Please let me know what you think!
> 
> shavit: expletive (means "shit", basically)  
> shabuir: Mando'a expletive (means "jerk", but stronger)


	4. Chapter 4 - Now

* * *

_“There are several key factors to be taken into account when determining the conditions of a battle and the victorious commander in warfare. Those are conviction, outside circumstances, virtues, experience and resources._

_Conviction is a representation of an often underestimated, abstract factor. It is determined by the loyalty and obedience between commander and those commanded, their morale, and the warriors’ motivations for fighting._

_Usually, those who fight for survival or defending their home and people will do so with higher fervour, but also recklessness, than those who fight to suppress, conquer, or destroy._

_Outside circumstances are mostly represented in the field of battle. A wise commander will strive to accustom those circumstances to his favour, and he is aware that there are few things more dangerous than a skilled enemy on his own carefully chosen ground._

_Additionally, there may be other parties or combatants that take an interest in the conflict, attempting to alter the outcome in their own favour. Such involvement will often require both foresight and improvisation in battle, and are most often completely out of control of the warrior._

_Virtues may also be considered as rules that one lays out for oneself to adhere to. Most virtues are provided by social and cultural conventions, such as the law. A warrior might often think of them as a weakness and restriction of one’s actions. In fact, all warriors will find their virtues challenged at crucial points in battle. Most will break with a rule they earlier perceived to be unquestioned at some point in their life. Some will do so out of desperation or lack of alternatives, some out of conscious calculation, and some out of disregard for the rule itself._

_While a warrior should never follow a given virtue without weighing it against tactical advantage and potential gain, one must never forget that one’s set of moral laws is what differentiates not only between the sentient being and mindless beast, but also between man and monster._

_Most important, however, are the resources. While many inadequate commanders think of men, weaponry and ships when considering resources, in truth the most important asset any warrior may have is information. Those who only consider material resources will most often simply stack up those assets against each other in a brutish exchange of open combat, where the winner is only determined by wealth and manpower._

_Such tactics are inefficient and wasteful, as well as prone to failure against a more skillful commander, even if he may possess less firepower. Knowledge, however, is not only power in itself, but may also be used as a weapon, purposefully provided to an enemy to lure or mislead. It is invaluable to the tactician._

_Experience, then, gives the warrior the necessary understanding of how to use the conditions and resources presented to him with according tactics. It also hones his reflexes and skill in improvisation. However, not all those who are seasoned in battle have learned from successes and failures alike, rendering the experience itself useless._

_As such, experience is of almost equivalent value as knowledge. Without information, experience is useless, but without the vision of how to wield it knowledge is equally as redundant. Thus, the commander should always be the one with the combination of most skill and experience in an otherwise comparably capable group. That is usually how advancement in rank is gained when provided by merit. In contrast, those who have achieved their command through other means will create a dangerous imbalance that will ultimately result in defeat.”_

* * *

It had only been a few hours of waiting on Ezra’s old tower, situated just outside the capital city of Lothal – time which Sabine had been spending reminiscing. She strolled around the platform and the inner chamber, hating to see it so empty and bare.

From what she had heard from Kallus, Thrawn had caught him here as he was trying to transmit his warning to the Rebellion on Atollon. It seemed like Thrawn had taken or destroyed everything that had been in here afterwards. Most of the stuff she did not care too much for, like the makeshift furniture that Ezra had scraped together and been living in when he was still making do on the streets.

His helmet collection was a different story. She guessed that in the long run Ezra would not mind it being gone too much in comparison to being brought back to his home, but she knew it had meant something to him. She had even custom painted most of them, blast it.

_More like blast Thrawn. Seems like a good enough idea. He really has a thing for taking our stuff… first Hera’s Kalikori, then Ezra’s helmets… pretentious chakaar._

Eventually, she decided that fretting about it would not help breathing life back into the place, but that she indeed _could_ do something to chase away the dreariness. She dug a few of her spray cans out of her bag, squatted down right at the door and started to work on a new mural winding around the lower part of the wall: a grassland scenery, with lots of loth-cats rolling around and playfully chasing each other. It was… pleasantly peaceful.

“I hope you’ll like my redecoration,” Sabine told the nearest painted cat after she had given it a few finishing touches. “You always loved those tookas.”

In the back of her mind, she noted that she was feeling decidedly less stupid than the last time she talked to an inanimate object as if it were Ezra. She found she was not quite sure if she should be relieved or worried about that fact.

_It’s definitely time we get going. Seems like I am turning crazy._

Sabine stood up, walking to the railing, and rested her head on her crossed arms, staring out over the plains, her thoughts once again drifting off to memories when her family still was intact.

Not long after, a shadow fell over Sabine and her vantage point. She looked up, just in time to see a familiar red-white T-6 shuttle pass overhead, flanked by two X-wings.

Ahsoka had arrived.

Sabine hurried down the tower, jumping on the speeder bike she had parked at the bottom, and gave chase. Despite the ship undoubtedly being faster, when she arrived at the meeting point they’d agreed upon, Ahsoka wasn’t there yet.

Probably some bureaucratic stuff about where to land with Orbital Control, Sabine mused. Well, she’d be here soon enough. A few minutes were not going to make much of a difference at this point, really.

She walked over to the piece of wall standing in the back of the room. There was not really anything else in here. This building had been one of those that had been destroyed by Thrawn during the bombardment on the city, and it had fortunately already abandoned and standing empty back then.

Instead of trying to spend tons of money trying to rebuild it, one of Azadi’s first actions as reinstated governor of Lothal had been to declare this as a memorial to Phoenix squadron and to Kanan and Ezra specifically, who had given so much to protect and liberate this planet from the Empire. The grateful townspeople had gathered bigger chunks of debris from the ruined buildings, piled them up and put them together again with some cement, forming a memorial wall. Sometimes, there would be candles, flowers or small trinkets placed here, tributes to the planet’s protectors.

Sabine traced the lines of the artwork she had painted on the stone, her hand coming to rest at Ezra’s face. She was particularly proud of this piece; it had taken her many, many hours and a lot of patience to get everything right. Manda knew patience was not one of her strong suits, but she was glad she had pushed through her frustration and those moments where she almost scrapped it entirely.

In the end, it had turned out beautiful, a backdrop of a Lothalian landscape with two loth-wolves sitting left and right to what could basically pass as a family holo of the Spectres. Well. A very opulent one to be fair, with the heroic composition, intense colours and golden details, but a family holo nonetheless. Her gaze flicked over to Kanan’s picture, standing right next to Hera with a hand protectively on her shoulder, and she felt a sting of sadness wash over her. Even though they had often been fighting and disagreeing over things, Sabine missed him a lot. She could not help but feel it was so unfair and such a pity that he had never gotten to know his own son. Gently, she tapped the painted Ezra’s cheek, vowing to herself not to stop until she had found him. She would not let this site become his tombstone, too.

The room turned dark as she heard the tell-tale sounds of a ship landing in front of the building. Throwing one last look at the painting, she turned around to see Ahsoka Tano standing in the entrance. She was wearing vastly different garments compared to the utilitarian armour and clothing Sabine had seen her in most of the time. A light robe-like cloak with a large hood that covered her montrals, with a layered tunic beneath – it somehow reminded Sabine of what she had always thought the Jedi looked like, based on what she had heard about them. Ahsoka looked at her expectantly, tapping the long metal staff she was holding on the ground in invitation.

It was time.

Sabine’s grip instinctively tightened around her helmet as she started walking over to the other woman.

“New look, huh?”

Ahsoka scoffed, then gave her a soft smile.

“Hello to you, too, Sabine. And yes, I decided to allow myself a change for once a while. However, you’re hardly one to talk, are you? You constantly give yourself a new paint job.” She gestured to Sabine’s shortly clipped, dark blue-purple hair and her armour, smirking. “Imitating a certain someone?”

Sabine felt her cheeks burning. “It felt fitting, okay? What with me taking care of Lothal, and what we’re going to do…”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Shall we go?” Her eyes shone with silent amusement.

“I was just waiting for you, you know,” Sabine countered. “So… yeah. Let’s go.” She took a deep breath. _Here goes._

Ahsoka turned, leading her up into the shuttle and to the cockpit. “I figured we could use another pair of hands,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at Sabine. “And to be frank, he insisted he’d be joining us. I guess you don’t mind?”

“What, on our journey to find Ezra? Who would even be crazy enough to volunteer for that? And you didn’t bother to ask me beforehand?” Sabine demanded.

Ahsoka just smiled enigmatically and keyed the cockpit door panel. And there, sitting on the co-pilot seat and turning as he heard the door open, was Commander –

“Rex?” Sabine exclaimed, unable to keep the grin off her face and rushing over to meet him. “I didn’t know you’d be coming along!”

Rex chuckled. “Hey, good to see you,” he said, taking hold of her lower arm in greeting. “As for you going off into stars-know-where without any real indication of where to fly, with little hope of success, to chase down a friend who was reckless enough to get himself into a sticky situation with an enemy? Sounds right up my alley. Although I gotta say, I am not sure whether to be flattered or insulted you didn’t tell her I’m coming, Ahsoka.”

She shrugged, setting her staff aside in the corner. “I just wanted to see Sabine’s reaction, and I wasn’t disappointed.”

Sabine snorted. “That’s cute. So, Rex… wanna fight it out with Ahsoka who’s getting the co-pilot seat?”

“Bold of you assume I won’t be the pilot,” Ahsoka smirked, shrugging out of the cloak and hanging it up on the wall.

“Hey!”

“Don’t worry, Sabine,” Rex said, shuffling around to get behind her as she slipped into the pilot seat and powered up the engines. “We got the seating arrangements down. I’ll be in the backseat, you two take care of the flying. Otherwise, you probably won’t shut up over me being way too old to fly this thing properly the entire time, anyway.”

Sabine felt herself sobering up at that. Now that she took a closer look, he had aged significantly, a lot more than he should have. She distantly remembered someone telling her that the clones were engineered to age twice as fast as regular humans. On the other hand, he did not look as frail as most elderly people she had met, despite the wrinkles and slightly hunched posture.

“Not to be rude, but aren’t you, actually? Too old for this?”

“Pah! I am not even 40!” Rex countered, mirth in his voice. “But to be honest, I certainly won’t be too happy if we have to run away from something at some point.” He stretched his legs, resulting in a few cracking sounds. “My joints just aren’t what they used to be. But I don’t want to be sitting around, withering away, while the others mop up what’s left of the Empire. Plus, I owe Ezra that one.” His voice darkened. “He did a good thing, taking out the Imps the way he did. That doesn’t mean he deserves to be stuck with them forever, especially not Thrawn. The man’s a menace, who knows what he might do to Ezra to get revenge for that stunt. I am not leaving a soldier behind, even if it took us our sweet time to finally get to it.”

A warm feeling of gratitude flowed over Sabine.

“Thank you, Rex. You might be one of the few people I’ll actually tolerate on this one.” She reached over her backrest, giving his shoulder a good-hearted smack and playfully rolling her eyes at his mock-indignant expression. “Okay, fine. Let’s make that a `I am glad to have you around´.”

He huffed out a laugh. “If it is _that_ bad, now’s the time where I can still hop off. But you better believe me that there will be something down the line that’ll make you regret you dumped me!”

“Cut the chatter, will you?” Ahsoka interjected, although she, too, could not help but be amused by their banter. “We should discuss where we will actually start while we leave orbit. Ezra is not going to save himself.”

“Oh, I don’t know, he is pretty resourceful,” Sabine said affectionately, watching the ground shrink beneath them through the viewport.

“I’ve tried to gather as much information as possible that could give us a hint about where he is,” Ahsoka continued, ignoring her comment. “But there is not much, unfortunately. I talked to Lothal Orbital Control earlier and we tried to recreate the vector the Chimaera left on… but it isn’t very accurate.”

“I did the same thing a few days ago”, Sabine said. “At least we _do_ have a vector.” She looked over her shoulder to Rex. “They vanished spinward, to the southwest. A few degrees further to the south and they practically would’ve been aiming for the Core.”

Rex frowned. “The Core? But I thought Ezra wanted to take Thrawn out of the picture? Coruscant is basically just around the blasted corner. Unless he tried to fly them into Deep Core itself and crash them in _there_ , that doesn’t seem like a very smart route to take.”

“Agreed,” Ahsoka said. “I believe that either he did not have as much control over the purrgil as we assumed, or they actually went _past_ the Core.”

“Hold on. Let me look it up in my charts,” Sabine said, drawing a datacard from a pouch in her belt and slotting it into the ship’s computer. Bathing the cockpit in blue light, a big star map flashed into view. She typed in a few commands and a red dotted line appeared, streaking right across the map.

“After all, that’s what I got them for, isn’t it? Here, that’s the vector, at least as far as we were able to reconstruct it, so plus minus a degree or two.” She gestured along the line. “If we assume he went past the Core and the Inner Rim, it points straight towards –“

Rex whistled softly. “The Unknown Regions? That makes a lot more sense. There is just one small problem. They’re called “unknown” for a reason. Good luck finding anyone there.”

“I know,” Sabine admitted. “I have a lot more maps here that I collected in preparation for this, but the farthest they cover in that direction is a planet called Ilum, here.” She shuffled through a few more maps before finding the right one, pointing to the specified system.

“But it only appears on this one, not even on any of the others. No info about the planet itself, either. Then if go further west, there is a whole lot of nothing but the occasional note about nebulas so big you could hide an entire sector in it, solar storms and black holes… you know, that sort. Nothing I could find about inhabited or uninhabited systems, let alone a hyperspace lane.”

“I feel like I heard the name Ilum before,” Rex murmured. “No idea where, but it rings a bell.”

“Ilum is an ice planet,” Ahsoka said, an oddly distant look on her face. “It’s the place Jedi younglings used to get their kyber crystals from. That is also why it’s pretty much kept a secret and not represented on many maps. The Jedi didn’t want anybody to swoop in and excavate the crystals. And considering that the Death Stars were powered by kyber and a small shard alone can supply a lightsaber with energy for a long time, that is by far not the worst decision the Order ever made.”

Rex hummed in agreement. “You think that could be where he was headed? Trying to get a new lightsaber crystal?”

“What, with the Seventh fleet in tow?” Sabine challenged. “Sure, let’s bring a whole bunch of Imperials to a Jedi place with lots of raw power. Also, I don’t think Ezra knows that planet’s there. I mean, _I_ didn’t and I usually take a lot more interest in the hyperdrive technicalities, plus it was never brought up on any of our missions or maps. He got his own crystal from some temple on Lothal, I think, but it was destroyed shortly before we drove the Empire out. There was a weird portal thing and it collapsed when he closed it.”

“And that’s certainly for the better,” Ahsoka said quietly, her expression turning thoughtful. After a few moments of silence, she waved a hand, dismissing the lost looks on her friends’ faces. “It doesn’t matter. Sabine is right. I doubt Ezra went to Ilum, especially if we go with what we got so far. Sure, we don’t know if he went straight in one direction, it is pretty unlikely actually if you look at how crooked hyperlanes get that far out, but Ilum is too far north.”

“Would have been real easy to have a planet to go looking at, and we all know it always goes that way,” Sabine said, unable to keep the cynicism out of her voice.

“So to paraphrase, we have no idea what’s out there, no idea how to get in there through all those gravitational anomalies _and_ our estimated vector is only a rough estimate? Sounds like a stretch,” Rex said dryly. “But then again, I am used to those odds when it comes to Jedi.”

“I’m pretty positive we can rule out all known space along the way, though”, Sabine countered. “I don’t see how five years could pass without any sighting, either. In that time, surely _somebody_ would have come across even some far-off moon, and Ezra and the Imps would have had it a lot easier, too, to get a signal out or something.”

“Not to be that guy,” Rex said. “But you realize the Chimaera and everyone who was on it might be nothing more than scrap that hyperspace chewed out somewhere? Or it could have crashed, and they all died on impact, hence no attempts of contact. That is kinda likely, actually. Uncontrolled hyperspace exits are a pilot’s nightmares for a reason.”

Sabine shook her head. “I realize it sounds crazy, but I know in my gut that Ezra is out there somewhere. I just know it.”

Rex just looked at her critically for a few seconds, then he nodded. “Then I am going to trust that judgement. I know the feeling.” He smiled. “I wouldn’t have tagged along as readily if I were sure you were chasing a ghost. Just thought I’d point out the obvious to get it out of the way.”

“If it helps any,” Ahsoka said, “while there cannot be absolute certainty in such matters, the Force tells me this is the right path, and that there is something or someone for us to find at the end.”

“But we can still take it as a given that the Chimaera is crashed or at least shipwrecked somewhere,” Rex said. “Because I don’t see how Thrawn – or Ezra, if he escaped somehow – wouldn’t have tried to return by now, otherwise, and no one can tell me that Ezra managed to hold control over the ship for all this time. Not by himself.”

He huffed out a breath. “It’s impressive enough he pulled it off in the first place, and that Thrawn obviously wasn’t able to _convince_ him to reverse the process.”

“There is one more factor to consider,” Ahsoka said, arms crossed and the fingers of her right hand tapping her left arm thoughtfully. “Thrawn comes from the Unknown Regions. That’s why we haven’t seen any other member of his species so far – there is no one else around. That means he might have tried to find refuge with his people or he might have allies and knowledge from his time before joining the Empire. As to why he went through all the trouble of getting on our side of the galaxy, I only was able to find rumours that he was exiled over some non-disclosed military misconduct. If I had to guess, he went on to try his luck with the Empire after that.”

“Where did you get that intel from?” Sabine asked, impressed. “You don’t even know him.”

“True,” Ahsoka said. “But don’t forget I was Fulcrum. I have my sources, and I also have a few tricks up my sleeve when it comes to finding information.”

“Small wonder a war criminal finds a place high up in the Empire,” Rex growled. “I’m not surprised they welcomed him with open arms.”

“We don’t know that. It might be that he is not the one who was in the wrong when they threw him out.”

“Sure,” Sabine snorted, feeling her temper rising. “And I am the reborn Jabba. You said it yourself – you never met him, Ahsoka. Well, I did, and I can tell you that that sort of thing fits him perfectly. He’s not the kind of man that steps out of line by _being a good person._ You think people became grand admirals because of their sense of honour?”

She snorted, smacking the edge of the console in front of her for emphasis. “I know that there only ever were twelve grand admirals at the same time, and they were hand-picked by the Emperor. That alone tells you everything you need to know! Thrawn is a sadistic, cruel monster, and a creepy freak on top of it!” As she finished the last sentence, her voice had risen to the point that she was almost shouting and her hands were balled into angry fists around the ship controls, trembling.

Rex held up both of his hands in a soothing gesture. “Hey, I’m sure that’s not what Ahsoka meant.” He turned to look at Ahsoka, who had been watching Sabine’s outburst without so much as a twitch, her arms crossed over her chest. “However, I second what Sabine said. I don’t have as much of a personal quarrel going on with him, but I was there when he was chasing Phoenix down, and I can tell you he’s unpleasant in all sorts of ways.”

Ahsoka regarded him for a moment, then bowed her head and sighed. “Rex is right. I didn’t mean to imply that, I merely want to make sure we consider a few more possibilities than just the obvious ones. The last thing we need is to stumble into a situation only to then notice we had it the wrong way around. There is enough uncertainty and literal unknown waiting for us as is, we are talking about unknown alien species here. If my time as Fulcrum has taught me anything, then it is the value of information and understanding of a confrontation before going into it. That includes unlikely scenarios and preparing for them, as well.”

Sabine looked down at the board, feeling a bit abashed. “Yeah. Sorry. I got carried away. Thrawn, he… he made it personal. The way he did things, he has a real talent for getting under your skin. Finds the button that makes you flip and pushes it, just because he can.”

“It’s alright. We all have those moments where we struggle with ourselves – yes, me too, and even the Jedi.” She glanced over to Rex, who returned her gaze with the same melancholy, reminiscence and grief on his old face. “I am not pretending to truly understand the depth of your animosity to Thrawn. After all, I never had to fight him. Just make sure your emotions don’t get the better of you at the wrong time. This is a rescue mission, not revenge, and we most likely have to be mindful of our every step the closer we get to him.”

Sabine winced. “You sound like Hera,” she complained. But ultimately, she knew Ahsoka was right. She remembered a few times when she had acted on a quick temper, and it had barely ever done her good. Better to come up with a solid plan before and stick to it, leaving improvisation to emergencies. She took a deep breath, forcing away the last bits of simmering anger. These two had not done anything to deserve being shouted at on instead of the man who was the actual target of her contempt. “But anyways, I get it.”

Ahsoka nodded, then thankfully changed the topic. “I have gotten us as many access and clearing codes, authorization documents and permits as I could dig up. That will at least enable us to avoid any difficulties from the side of the New Republic as well as give us a lot more space to move around and ask questions, too. On that note, I forgot to mention earlier: Senator Organa sends her regards and her blessing, and she wishes us good luck.”

Rex smiled ruefully. “I’m gonna tell her thanks when we come back, we’re certainly gonna need it. I hope she’s getting some sleep these days, rebuilding a government is one of those tasks that make me very glad I am a soldier and not a politician.”

“Me, too,” Sabine agreed. “I am glad we have the Republic back, but I personally always preferred my people’s approach. Much less complicated.”

“Also a lot less planets to manage,” Ahsoka reminded her. “Regardless, if anyone can do it, it is Mon Mothma and the people she’s working with. I know her a bit from back before the Empire, and she’s not only a kind, intelligent person, but also a very good politician.”

They were clearing Lothal’s atmosphere now, and Sabine tapped the display of the nav computer for emphasis, drawing their attention back to their task. “So we start with these coordinates and work our way over to the Unknown Regions. Everyone on board with that?”

Rex and Ahsoka nodded.

“I might be able to use the Force to help guide us once we get closer. I won’t guarantee it will straight-up point me in the right direction like a compass, but we can’t risk long blind jumps anyway. If the Force wants us to find Ezra, and I feel like it does, it will keep us on the right path.”

Sabine shot her a sceptical look. “It can’t hurt to try, I suppose. If I hadn’t seen Ezra and Kanan pull off some crazy Force-stuff like that over and over again, I’d say you’re making that up.”

“You can rely on her,” Rex chimed in from the back-seat. “Believe me, me and the boys had our trouble with that kind of shenanigans, too, at first. But years of fighting alongside Jedi and you just accept that there are things that you won’t ever understand. Just because you don’t _know_ how it works doesn’t mean that it stops working.”

His expression turned warm and affectionate. “I’ve seen Ahsoka go a long way and then some, from all the way back when she was just a padawan fresh out of the Jedi temple. I trust her and her abilities, and so should you, Sabine.”

“I do,” Sabine protested. “I was the one to reach out to her! I just… well, I guess you are right. If it helps us find Ezra, I’ll take it. Anything.”

She reached for the hyperdrive lever, double-checking the coordinates on the nav computer just to make sure. With an odd mixture of excitement and dread fluttering in her stomach, she pulled the lever.

The stars flashed and flared into star lines, and they were off into hyperspace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chakaar: Mando'a, means "thief, petty criminal, scumbag"
> 
> I don't have much to say about this. Except that I tried my best to throw in easter eggs and references to tie it in nicely ^^ Cookies for those who find them, there's a couple ;)  
> Oh well, one thing: Welcome, Commander Rex! I hope you like the addition ^_^
> 
> So one search team is on the way! Will they find them? How soon? What obstacles will they face? Cue in in the following weeks to find out more! *cue dramatic tv music* (Sorry I couldn't help myself XD )
> 
> Edit: I made a silly mistake and when trying to get my chapter 1 note to stick to chapter 1, somehow (dont ask me why it didnt work idk) lost the note. Now I'm sad because I quite liked it and cant recreate them from memory. If anyone reading this has any access to it because they downloaded the fic or anything, please can you let me know, that would be great <3


	5. Chapter 5 - Then

* * *

_Who deserves what is irrelevant. It is the unfortunate truth that each warrior must face, and, ultimately, bow to._

_A capable warrior may face a string of unfavourable events and fall, while a much less deserving warrior may get lucky and survive the same situation despite the lesser probability. It is not often so, but it is even more so frustrating_ when _it happens_.

_Additionally, no matter the rank, every commander is also a servant. To his crew, his superior officer or leader, and to his people. Each of those command his loyalties, and demand that his actions will be in their favour. This is also the warrior’s duty which he is bound to by honour._

_However, often those expectations will conflict with each other or the warrior’s own goals and intent, and they are far more often determined by pragmatism or even self-centred short-sightedness than an interest in other groups and their fates. Despite one’s best efforts, it is difficult and sometimes even impossible to appease all parties._

_One might think that, therefore, this effort can be neglected in favour of an attempt at compromise between those duties, a greater goal or one’s own vision and aspirations._

_Reality is different._

_Deviating from expectations of the crew has a more personal, yet nevertheless important impact. If the warrior disregards his soldiers and their well-being, they will be discontent and mutinous, the trust between commander and those commanded disrupted. A soldier’s death is a harsh part of service, yet their lives are the commander’s responsibility. He might have to decide on who to send into dangerous territory or to use as bait, thus leading them to a likely demise. He deals out death on both sides, deserved or not, but he rarely grants life._

_Most certainly he lacks the ability to give it to those who died._

_Individual goals misalign. This is normal. Warriors of all ranks – subordinates, peers or superiors – will have different opinions and approaches to a given problem or battle, and what they hope to gain from it. Often a commander will benefit from considering multiple angles and ideas, so as to find the best solution._

_It is when a person’s actual goals divert from their rightfully intended ones, the ones they are bound to by duty to their post, that trouble arises._

_But who sets those guidelines and rules? Who decides what takes priority?_

_The commander may think to be that judge himself, but it is an illusion. It is not he who decides who deserves what. It is those he serves, since it is the power they hold over him that matters. And they will often claim his actions should only concern_ them _._

_Disappointing expectations and duty towards one’s leader or people often has an impact on a more fundamental scale._

_In the Ascendancy, I was frowned upon for acting on the behalf of aliens, despite the tactical advantage and consideration it brought the Ascendancy, and despite the innumerable undeserved loss of life._

_Is it not the duty of he who wields the power to protect and shield, to destroy and harm, to use it in aid of those who do not have it themselves?_

_Do they deserve to suffer and die because of their lack of power?_

_How far may one go with their actions on such a path?_

_Does the warrior’s loyalty to his people mean he has to disregard everyone else and only focus on their benefit?_

_There is a partial answer to that. The Ascendancy, which provided my position and mandate, decided it was irrelevant to their interests, and the Syndicure’s disapproval resulted in my exile._ _But yet there are those who would join and support me in my efforts and walk a similar path._

_In the Empire, I am frowned upon for my chosen priorities, as well. Captain Rossi had me brought to court martial because of it. Commander Cheno’s career was, instead of mine, needlessly ended, on behalf of the failings of his superior. There are many similar examples from my path that illustrate that pattern._

_Is it not the duty of those who possess power to wield it responsibly and with diligence?_

_To protect the lives of those they are sworn to guard, whether it be citizens or subordinates?_

_To not waste resources, talent and lives?_

_Yet, far too often, it matters not, especially in the face of politics._

_Those whose word actually_ _wields the power of life and death are often not those who then must act upon those words. It is also not those whose life and death is decided upon._

_Each warrior, ultimately, is a servant, and his considerations are, at the very least, influenced by others. There are few who have the courage or foolishness to resist. And they will always face judgment, disapproval, and attacks against themselves, for many of those with power fear to lose it to someone else. One’s efforts will be undermined or countered, often rendering them futile._

_It is a battle that effectively never stops until one gives in and submits._

_The only counter to luck, probability and those outward influences is a state of preparation and control, bending all possible factors to one’s own fortune._

_Most prevalent in this consideration often is power of one’s own in its different forms, be it knowledge, material resources or the authority a commander holds over his subordinates._

_In the end, it would seem it only matters who has power._

* * *

Today had gone from “promising” to “annoying” to “outright awful” far too quickly, Commodore Karyn Faro thought dimly as she pushed herself up on her hands and knees. Her vision was still blurry, and for a few seconds she struggled to hold herself steady on her shaking arms, staring down at the floor of the Chimaera’s hangar bay and catching her breath. Focusing was hard, it made her head throb in pain – right, she had hit it on the ramp hydraulics of her Lambda shuttle.

Gingerly, she reached up with one hand, feeling for the place where it hurt the most and bringing her hand in front of her face. No blood. That was something, at least. After taking another moment to recover, she stumbled to her feet – no sharp, sudden pain, so her legs and feet were fine. There was quite a dull ache in her shoulder, ribs and right hip, no doubt foreshadowing some bad bruises, but a bit of prodding confirmed it did not seem like she had broken any bones there, either.

Wincing, she took a cursory sweep of the hangar bay, and instead of the usual hurried but organised hustle of activity she stared into a disturbing array of chaos and broken ships and bodies.

Life just wasn’t fair.

She had, finally, been well on the way to her new command – of her own fleet, no less – and once again, she had been cut short. She had almost been on the shuttle that would have brought her to the flagship of the 11th fleet when the battle alarm had sounded.

Naturally, she had decided to not make a fuss and let the TIEs out first, stepping out of the Lambda to get a glimpse of what was happening despite her pilots request to get on board and strap in. Not only was she convinced that putting her own goals before a successful battle would make her a very poor commander, she also had expected that whatever fight the Rebels were putting up would be over in short notice, and then she would have departed without trouble.

After all, what could the rebels possibly bring through the massive blockade that would be able to make any dent into the fighting force that was three Imperial Star Destroyers, complete with TIE fighter squadrons and support ships?

Faro’s head was spinning, both from her impromptu and involuntary meeting with the floor and her attempts of getting a grip on the situation. She had definitely caught on the slight jolt that was the tell-tale sign of the Chimaera jumping to hyperspace.

But how? And, more importantly, why? They were at the edge of the planet Lothal, to jump into hyperspace with such high proximity to a gravitational mass would be unnecessarily risky, even for Grand Admiral Thrawn’s standards. And for what possible gain? In the midst of battle?

Had they, for whatever obscure, stars-forsaken reason, been losing the fight and were fleeing the battlefield, leaving the fighters to their fate? Impossible. None of the fighters had yet returned to the hangar. Thrawn would not abandon several squads of TIEs unless he had a very good reason. _And_ there was no chance in any of Corellia’s proverbial nine hells that the 7th fleet was losing that battle in the first place.

And to add insult to injury, there was another, even more glaring question. When they had jumped to lightspeed, for a few, crucial moments, the strong ray shields that protected the hangar bay from the vacuum of hyperspace had not engaged as per usual.

The result was a violent jerk of air sucked out of the bay that sent her flying against the shuttle, desperately scrambling for a hold on something, anything, so that she would not be ripped outside, and finding nothing before she had been slammed back first into the ramp of the Lambda.

All over the hangar bay, equipment, fighters, shuttles, and the crew had lurched with frightening speed towards the exit, sending officers, troopers and pilots alike flailing to find purchase and reeling to avoid getting hit by crates and ships skidding over the floor and through the air.

Not all had succeeded. Faro herself had gotten a grip on the hydraulics of the ramp, grabbing it blindly through the haze of confusion and pain. She had distantly heard the loud series of _thunks_ of the air-tight blast doors to the hangar slamming shut, but then her attention had snapped back to watch, helplessly, as soldiers were hurled outside or crushed under tumbling hunks of metal, screaming.

What could have been only a few, horrifying seconds had felt a small eternity, until the shield finally went up and released them from the grasp of certain death. And now, that Faro could stand on her feet again, she could not wrap her mind around why _in blazes_ the shields had failed in the first place.

For security reasons, the hyperdrive could not be engaged when the ray shield generator was offline, the procedures were linked, and a manual override was required to circumvent it. However, that command practically only existed to ensure that in case of that generator failing, the ship still could make the jump to hyperspace and would not be stuck on some safety measure blocking the engines.

But, obviously, the shield was indeed working. The proper security measures had _consciously_ not been followed through with. And regardless of how she spun the scenario in her head, Faro could not even think of a single reason why anyone would want to risk the death and destruction of everything and everyone in the hangar bay for the sake of two more seconds it would take to wait until the shields had fired up.

Especially not Thrawn, who had proven time and time again that despite his willingness to sacrifice men where he deemed it necessary and being decidedly unscrupulous about it, he also never put those under his command into any avoidable danger. _This_ danger was _absolutely_ avoidable.

Faro considered the other implications of that conclusion. A forced hyperspace jump? That would mean a saboteur in the engine room. Had Bridger escaped and made it all the way to that part of the ship? She had seen another shuttle arrive, a minute or so after a whole platoon of troopers had stormed into the hangar bay. She had also watched the Jedi get out of said shuttle, letting himself get cuffed and then escorted out.

But even if he had escaped somehow and was running amok, he still could not bypass the technical requirements. Could he? Could he have gotten a hold of the codes? The code cylinder of a high-ranking officer, _and the_ knowledge how to use it? Surely not.

It just did not make any sense. None of it did.

Faro groaned, massaging the bridge of her nose. This brain wrecking was not getting her anywhere. She straightened up, trying to ignore her headache and orient herself, as a muffled groan sounded from inside the ship.

“Are you alright?” she called, wobbling up the ramp and trying to remember the first aid courses she had. For a moment, the pilot did not answer, and Faro let out a small curse. She had never been particularly good at providing first aid to begin with, and there had not really been many times when she had to use that skill so far except in training. What usually would be considered good fortune might come back to bite her now with her lack of experience.

“I think I hit my leg pretty badly,” he said, slowly limping over to her. “What about you, ma’am?”

“I’ll be alright,” Faro said dismissively, wincing at how sluggish her voice sounded despite her assurances. But fortunately, he did not pry, probably taking her words for the unspoken order to drop it. Which, of course, they were.

She turned around, slowly making her way out and away from the ship and mentally crossing the pilot from her current list of worries.

Looking around the chaos, she searched for anyone that would help her understand what had happened. On the edge of her vision, she saw Lieutenant Fentaugh running over to her TIE defender that had careened away from her, probably before she could get in to join the fight earlier. The ship had collided with another Defender, and its pilot had not been so lucky. Faro watched as Fentaugh made a dive under a crumpled wing and wrapped her hands around the chest of her wing mate to pull him out under the wreckage, and made a face. There was blood. A lot of it.

There were troopers and even officers assisting pilots to secure their ships, some of them crashed, some intact, shouting orders over the blaring alarms, back and forth with small hover cranes and repulsor lifts, weaving between others tending to the injured, medics rushing over – her head spun again, and she screwed her eyes shut, fighting a wave of vertigo, pressing her hands over her ears.

Blast it.

She took a few carefully measured breaths and opened her eyes again, scanning the scenery once more and spotting Lieutenant Xoxtin. The hangar master seemed to be in the process of organising a more coordinated clean-up and rearrangement procedure of the disarray, and Faro was silently glad she did not have to get involved with that. Next to Xoxtin stood a group of stormtroopers, one of them with his helmet off and holding a cooling pack to his temple, talking raptly into the comlink on his other wrist.

Belatedly, Faro’s thoughts caught up with her, and cursing herself, she quickly pulled her own com of her belt, punching in a number she knew so instinctively she could have called it while sleepwalking.

“Major Carvia, send a squad of troopers over to the hyperspace engine room immediately. I am not sure if you noticed, but – “

“We made some sort of unexpected jump. Could be we have an enemy loose in the ship’s belly, most likely heading from the generator room,” Carvia cut in. “Yes, ma’am, I’ve got you. Sending them now.”

He was talking hurriedly, and Faro got the impression he had already been on the task of distributing forces to swarm out and look for the perpetrator before she had called him. That also explained why he had so bluntly interrupted her. But before she could decide whether to reprimand him or not, her comlink chirped again.

“Another thing, ma’am. Thought I’d let you know – I can’t reach anyone else on the bridge. I doubt it is because of my own com, I had a few troopers call in, too, and they also didn’t get an answer. Could you please have it checked?”

“I am not currently on the bridge, I was on the way to my new assignment and therefore in a shuttle scheduled to leave any moment before this happened,” Faro answered, feeling her face warm. She might not officially be part of the command structure of the 7th fleet anymore, but asking for orders and insight on what had happened should have been the first thing she should have done. What a blunder.

There was a short, awkward silence on the other end of the line. By now, basically everyone knew about Faro’s promotion and new command. On the flight back to Coruscant and then, after that, to Lothal, she had a lot of officers stop when passing her in the corridors to offer quick congratulations and good wishes.

Either Carvia had somehow not gotten the news, or he had forgotten about it and just fallen back into old and well-oiled habits and procedures in a crisis. Probably the latter, she decided. It would take her some getting used to, as well, to interact with an entirely new crew and command staff.

But at least, if no one on the bridge answered comm calls, at least she would not have to explain to Carvia why _she_ had nothing to relay to him.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Carvia said at last. “My mistake. Uh – maybe you can try? I don’t necessarily expect it to work on technical terms, to be honest. But on the other hand, I don’t know what else to try but go up there personally to demand answers. Neither the ship’s communication lines nor the personal ones, even the grand admiral’s, got through, but it’s not jamming from what I can tell. Just… nobody actually answering any calls.”

Faro frowned, worry twisting in her gut. What was all that about now? No jamming, but no calls going through? That was highly irregular as well. True, if this was sabotage, the bridge might be too busy attempting to get a quick grip on the situation. But usually, Senior Lieutenant Lomar at the very least stood ready for exactly that kind of communication to the Chimaera’s command.

And from personal experience, she knew Thrawn also would not just outright ignore a call. He had taken care to make clear to everyone that he was only to be called personally when needed, but that also meant that he knew it was important when it happened. Faro felt her eyes widen and her breath catch in her throat as the worry morphed into a sudden, cold spike of dread. _With Jedi_ , she remembered her mother’s warning, _you never know._

“What if the problem _is_ on the other end and the bridge and the admiral are in bigger trouble than we thought?” she suggested, not daring to say aloud what she was thinking.

What if they are all dead? It certainly would explain the silence.

Her legs were already, instinctively carrying her to the closest turbo lift that would get her back to the upper decks.

It could not have gone that badly, could it?

“That would be a possible and unsettling explanation,” Carvia said carefully. Faro was sure she heard her own anxiety reflected in his voice, as well. “Shall I send more troopers to the bridge, just in case?”

“Do that, yes,” Faro confirmed. “Even if my conclusion is truer than I would like it to be, it won’t hurt to have sent some back-up. The worst that could happen on that account is that they are simply sent away again on the claim that it was unnecessary.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Carvia snapped, then shut the connection.

It was moments like this that reminded Faro what she so strongly appreciated about working under Thrawn’s command. She was certain neither she nor the troopers themselves would get any backlash from the admiral for being careful and double-checking. It had taken her a while to realize Thrawn’s endorsement of critical thinking and what some might call over-planning was not a test of subordinance or a trap for a reprimand.

It was not like that by far under all Imperial officers, she had served under her fair share of small-minded control freaks like that. And it was something she had sworn to herself she would provide to the officers under her command, as well.

Especially if she ever left Thrawn’s fleet – and she still would, she told the bad feeling in the back of her head – she would carry on with this style of leadership, to help grow a more forgiving workspace that was focused on commitment, creativity, and individual thinking.

She had seen the kind of officers and environment it created, watched tentative junior crew grow into competent and hardworking officers. She would not dare say it aloud, but she was convinced that this style of command was superior to the likes of Vader by lightyears, both in principle and practice.

Jedi on board or not, she would not let this mess be the end of it all.

Faro hit the button for the turbolift, relieved that the doors immediately wooshed open to reveal an empty car, and hurried inside, narrowing her eyes against the bright light. She pressed – _punched_ – the key for the bridge, mentally urging the car to go faster as it started to rise. Out of curiosity – or maybe desperation – Faro tried Thrawn’s number on the com, then Hammerly’s and Pyrondi’s. But just as Carvia had said, while there was none of the static noise that usually indicated jamming, no one was responding.

And as she watched the indicator lights switch their numbers closer and closer to bridge level, her head pounding and her heart hammering in her chest, Faro hoped with all her might that this day would not still turn from “outright awful” to “catastrophic”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! Here's to hoping it will be better than the last one ^^
> 
> I really wish I would have gotten this up sooner, but with all the stuff that is happening rl for me right now, it was tough to sit down and get the last touches and details done. Sorry for the long wait ^_^'
> 
> So, as for Faro still being here, when I planned this fic, it took me sooo long to decide whether she had made it off the Chimaera or not... I think there is solid arguments for both options, I decided to take this route because I love Faro and wanted her to be present ^^ Although I do feel bad for what I condemned her to, someone give her some meds against her concussion already XD


End file.
